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ilikemesometaetaes · 4 years

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Don’t Hold Your Breath ~ jjk

Chapter Six (M)

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: As the CEO of an international government security company, you have the world at your fingertips. Living life lavishly and extravagantly has become the norm. Behind closed doors, however, you host a past that renders you lonely and, quite frankly, miserable. It’s only a matter of time before your past comes back to bite you right in the ass.

•••> Pairing(s): Jungkook/Reader, Taehyung/Reader (slight)

•••> Inspo: This fic is inspired by the song “SAVAGE ANTHEM” by PARTYNEXTDOOR. Thank you to @dariangarcia, @btssmutgalore, and @junghoseokit for supporting my work. To my mamas, Kaitlin, Adora, Lauren, Lanie, Lu, and Sher.

•••> Word Count: 7.81k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Warnings: angst, dirty talk, sexual teasing, heartbreak, cursing, pining, depression, breakup, emotional instability, arguing | Warnings are written specifically to chapter.

Taglist: @dariangarcia @apurpledheart @itsgottabeyoo-ngs @hytibm @namjinsbaby @ggukkieland @fan-ati--c

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, say so in a comment to this chapter or the DHYB Main Page, or send me an ask!

NAVIGATION: Chapter Five (M) <- | -> Chapter Seven (M) -> Mini-Masterlist -> Series Masterlist

•••> Official Playlist

~#~

“I put the dirt into dirtbag. Still got your jacket in my bag.”

THEN.

“Kookie!” You screamed in between breaths, eyes watering at the struggle. “Stop! Please!”

“No way!” His laugh was buried in your hair as he pressed his face against the back of your head. “Apologize!”

“For what?” You wheezed, attempting to get away from the curling fingers that tickled your ribs relentlessly. His long legs were wrapped around your body, restricting your movement and effectively taking away almost any opportunity to escape.

“For calling me a singing demon!” His hands continued their assault, sending you into another laughing fit. You fought helplessly against his tattooed arms.

You wanted to bite back, but the lack of air in your lungs prevented you from doing so. Your heart beat wildly, adrenaline spiking and arms flailing against his grip. Desperation flooding your mind, you wrapped your hand around the one that caged your neck and dug your nails into his flesh in hopes that the pain would get him to weaken his hold.

Jungkook only laughed again and hummed teasingly. “Oh, just like that. Harder, baby.”

Squirming didn’t help much, but when you shifted your hips and felt something poking into your spine, you huffed with defeat on the horizon. His obvious boner signified that he liked your struggle- a clear indicator that there was no way he was letting you go any time soon.

Unless…

With another shift of your hips to grind your ass upwards on him, seating his dick between your clothed ass cheeks, you let the situation take over your body with your brain rewiring into a horny mindset in order to distract him.

“Jungkook,” You whispered through a gasp, hoping the change of pace would throw him off. It was a stunt you always pulled; whether it be during an argument or sex, changing the pace would unfocus your boyfriend’s attention and give you the upper hand.

Sure enough, Jungkook’s embrace around you loosened so that he could give himself more room to slide his manhood against you.

“Oh, baby...” He grunted into your ear with a sliver of surprise tainting his lust.

Slowly, so as to not trigger him, you slid one hand down his stomach and slid two fingers below the waistband of his shorts. With your body on top of him, you couldn’t go further inward, so you settled on harshly scraping your nails across his hip while you dug your other hand harder into his forearm.

“Please.” You said with more air in your lungs. Finally, you could breathe.

“Are you begging for me to fuck you?” His dick twitched against you, desperate to bury itself between your thighs. “Or are you pleading for mercy? Tell me, Y/N,”

Jungkook flipped the two of you over so that your chest pressed into the bed and his entire body pinned you to the mattress with a swift cant of his hips. “Which one is it?”

For a moment, you rolled your eyes and struggled to look at him from your compromised position. It wasn’t until your eyes caught sight of the numbers on the clock sitting on the nightstand that you began struggling with a new burst of concern in your mind.

“Jungkook!” You wheezed. “The time!”

“Answer my question, Y/N. I can stay here all night. The stage can wait.”

“But you’ll be late!” Your voice increased in volume.

“Only if you continue avoiding my question…” Jungkook trailed off for a moment before he leaned down to murmur softly in your ear. “Well, I’ll only be late if you refuse to let go of your pride to ask for mercy and beg for my cock instead. I will rearrange your guts if that is what you’re asking for.”

You huffed in frustration, the desire to fuck your boyfriend dissipating with his words. You knew that Jimin would be through the roof by now, searching high and low for the lead singer of BTS to dress him properly.

“Mercy.” You finally grumbled in defeat, not wanting to delay him any longer.

Almost disappointedly, Jungkook grunted as he removed his weight from on top of you. “Fine.”

“I’ll go turn on the car.” You got up and swiped the keys off of your dresser, thankful that you were still dressed in your internship clothes.

“You go do that.” Jungkook chuckled whilst sliding his shorts off of his body to reveal a very obvious boner tenting his boxers that you pretended to be oblivious of. “You’re a master at turning me on so I trust you with that.”

“Ew.” You grimaced at the poorly-delivered joke. “That was terrible.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was clever.” Jungkook chided.

“Not at all.” You quipped. After you watched him slide a pair of jeans up his muscular legs, you turned to leave. You just needed to make sure he got dressed. “I’ll be in the car.”

~#~

Jimin’s knowledge of art always mystified you. His prowess wasn’t the type of intelligence like knowing how Picasso depicted the loss of innocence in Guernica or how the melting clocks of Dali introduced surrealism to the world of art- no, that was Taehyung’s strong-suit.

Jimin knew how to create his own version of art that left viewers wistful and in absolute awe by making a stage the vessel of his masterpieces.

As you sat on the balcony, overlooking the crowd while they all thrashed and jumped to the beat of Hoseok’s bass drum and the duo of guitars that was Namjoon and Jungkook, you just had to sit back in your chair and stare at the composition that was Jimin’s show.

Flashes of blue and red lights swept across the crowd, printing themselves temporarily into the crowd’s retinas so that when the opposite color came back, a light hue of purple was brought into the experience for a fleeting moment. Short puffs of fire whenever Namjoon strummed a power chord warmed your face, even from the distance in which you sat from the stage, and lasers shot through the crowd every time Yoongi penetrated the sounds of his group with the keys of his keyboard.

Graphics on the jumbotron behind the band, which were also of Jimin’s creation, outlined each member with curls of dark, tentacle-like wisps that matched the purple hue of the crowd with its raven color.

The last song of the setlist, Blue and Grey, was one you were all too familiar with. The lights faded to a soft blue for a moment as Taehyung began the first strong notes with his bass and the crowd in the venue whooped and hollered in excitement- Blue and Grey was BTS’ most popular song. A year and a half into their journey of being a band and they already had a crowd favorite.

As Taehyung continued his bass line with his guitar and tattooed strumming arm put on display by Jimin’s spotlight, Jungkook leaned into the mic and began strumming his own guitar.

“Where is my angel?”

You sighed and leaned forward in your seat, loving the way Jungkook’s voice carried throughout the performance hall.

Taehyung accompanied Jungkook with the intro until Hoseok joined in to transition into the first verse with his high hat and snare drum.

Once the chorus hit, you couldn’t help but stand from your seat as you began to feel the power of BTS’ music rocking the venue.

“I just wanna be happier. To melt the cold me.”

Jungkook’s neck veins bulged from his skin as he belted out the notes, sweat dribbling down his temples from exertion. Even as he huffed for breath in between his lines, the image of him dressed in all black and owning the stage while ripping his fingers through his guitar strings was one you could never get tired of.

The songs were full of angst- the dark, unspoken feelings that not many people talked about- and you loved how you heard them from Jungkook through music. If only he were this honest when it was just the two of you.

“Don’t say it’s okay, ‘cause it’s not okay.” Jungkook closed up his lines with a heartbreaking tone that every fan in the crowd sang along with as Namjoon prepared to sing his part. For a brief moment, your boyfriend met your eyes across the large venue.

“Please don’t leave me alone. It hurts too much.”

~#~

NOW.

You walked into your building, grateful for the warm protection it offered against the freezing winter of New York City.

Noticing the lack of staff around, being that there was only the elevator operator and the receptionist sitting behind the marble counter, you glanced at your watch to check just how long you spent working.

20:17, your watch read. You had been working in front of computer screens and reading contracts for almost 9 hours.

“Greetings, ma’am!” The receptionist stood from his chair. “May I be of any service to you this evening?”

You shook your head to the man and continued on your path to the elevator where the other employee in the lobby waited to take you up. “None needed. I’ll be leaving momentarily.”

“Very well. Please let me know if you need anything.” He sat back down and turned his gaze to the computer in front of him.

The sound of your pumps echoed against the vast but empty room until you stopped in front of the elevator where the woman already had the doors opening in preparation.

“Good evening, ma’am.” She said lowly.

“ ‘Evening.” You responded, stepping inside without another word. The woman kept the conversation at that, which you appreciated, so you smiled at her in gratitude after you placed your key in the penthouse slot. She returned your smile with her own before the doors closed to encase you in silence.

The ride up was quiet, warranting you to pull out your phone so that you could read over your conversation with Taehyung again.

Why am I wearing think socks? I hate thick socks.

Read at 8:01 pm

Trust me. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

Is that so? Why?

Read 8:03 pm

Just wear the damn socks, Y/N.

Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?

Read 8:04 pm

Negative, captain

Why am I a captain now

Read 8:04 pm

Cuz I said so. Now stop talking or you’ll make me give away my position

Alright.

Read 8:05 pm

I said stop talking

…?

Read 8:05 pm

Fucking hell.

You let a small giggle slip past your lips at how normal the text conversation was. It was as if you never stopped talking to him, slipping into the normalcy of having Taehyung back in your life as quickly as it had been to cut him out of it. You zoned out for a moment in thought.

The strange sensation of friendship didn’t take any getting used to as it settled itself back into your bones and filled your heart with warmth like it never left- like the ice covering the beating organ was only temporary. As you stood alone, staring shallowly at the increasing floor numbers, you smiled in content.

The elevator slowed as the cabin came close to reaching the top floor, bringing you back to your senses. Sliding your phone back into the pocket of your slacks, you looked up once the elevator doors opened, only to drop your briefcase to the floor loudly.

Jungkook sat against the wall beside your door with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. At the sound of your clumsiness clattering on the ground, his gaze snapped to you as he scrambled to stand up.

Anger flooded you immediately. You wanted to backhand him and rip his hair out. You wanted to scream and cry and lose your shit. However much you wanted to hurt him, though, you could not afford catching an assault charge on the man who defaced you once before.

There was a break of silence as you stood staring at him, unsure of how to handle the punch in your mood while the memories were forced to surface in your mind.

“Y/N…” Jungkook trailed, breaking the tangible barrier of tension. He took a step forward whilst obviously hesitating. “I-”

Instead of screaming at him, you went for the more sophisticated and controlled route to keep your lividity at bay whilst stopping his sentence in its tracks.

“How did you get up here?” It was a sensible question to ask. You just wanted to prevent him from deepening the conversation.

“I pulled some strings.” He murmured, looking down almost shyly, before piping up with more confidence. “But listen, I-”

“Save it.” You cut him off again, unable to control your facade much longer. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

His anxious expression turned worried- desperate. You didn’t miss the way his eyes became more expressive than you’ve ever seen them. “Please, Y/N.”

“Please what, Jungkook?”

“Please just give me a moment to speak.”

For a beat, you pondered his request. Taehyung’s words weighed heavily on your mind. We needed to talk.

Fuck talking. You have been done talking for ages.

“Wow.” You scoffed coldly, ice barriers slamming back into place over your heart. Taehyung had been able to melt them away, but Jungkook put them right back with fierce determination to completely ruin you. “You just want to take everything from me, huh?”

“Y/N, what-“ He blinked cluelessly, caught off-guard by your sarcasm.

“I gave you years to speak, Jungkook. I gave you everything.” You stepped forward, the boiling rage overtaking your body, and came to a stop in front of him with the fury of a charging bull. You wanted him to feel small and vulnerable.

“What else could I possibly give you? I have nothing left.” He took everything. The veins in your body were emptied and exhausted of every single ounce of energy to fight for someone.

You were unaware of the way Jungkook’s fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his palms.

You failed to notice how much he trembled under your gaze, physically struggling to protect his butterfly from your wrath.

Your vicious swings at the dainty being of hope were nothing compared to what he, himself, had done to it. Jungkook found it ironic that you gave him an aspect that he was just barely strong enough to protect yet took the darker things from inside him and destroyed them as if they were mere placeholders- as if you were his puppeteer.

You were too stressed to realize the toll it took on Jungkook to keep his act together. He needed to keep the door open long enough to be your friend. Anything to prevent losing you. Earlier, his demons swooped in and overtook him, suffocating him to silence once again, but for the first time, they ebbed away at the mere thought of you.

As he walked down the street with his stage persona flowing, the simple thought of your name empowered his butterfly to beat its wings so fiercely that it blew away all of the impending smoke and dark tentacles of smog that threatened to overtake his vision.

Once he thought of you, he thought of everything.

Your anger was justified. He understood that now. Watching you huff breath after breath following your question was somehow relieving- you still cared enough to be pissed off. Jungkook forced himself to look on the bright side of the encounter with you; he made himself see that you were still passionate about the past. You were passionately upset and he couldn’t be happier.

He had seen you with Taehyung. He saw the way you were happy again. Jungkook wanted a part of that because he was too selfish to back off and stay dormant in your life- too determined to make you silence his demons.

Even if it was just as a friend. He could deal with that.

“You’re right.” Jungkook stated.

You paused in your tracks at the concession. Anger no longer blazing- staying right where it was- you quirked an eyebrow at him. Any time the two of you fought, he would never come even close to alluding that you were right.

“You’re right and I’m sorry, Y/N.”

An apology.

Words always seemed minimal to you. Unless to communicate information, you found that words filled with feeling didn’t mean much from someone you didn’t know.

After Jungkook, anyone that told you they loved you was promptly deemed a liar. Kate worked hard to make sure you were aware of the fact that she would actually take a bullet for you because of how much she loved you. She spent moment after moment proving to you that she cared deeply even though she didn’t have to put up with you.

Your parents, despite not talking to you much, expressed their love and gratitude whenever you sent them money. You knew they were hard workers like you and didn’t have time to worry about trivial things like words. Instead of taking the easy way out by simply telling you that they loved you, they showed you.

But Jungkook, who claimed to love you in the way that a lover would- the only person to actually do so- lied.

You could never trust the words in that way again.

Still, you couldn’t help but be taken by surprise.

“I’m right? Really?”

“Y/N, you’ve been right since the beginning. I took and took and just stopped giving back. I understand that you’re angry and I want to fix it so that you don’t hate me anymore. I want to make it right.”

You were silent. You hadn’t expected him to admit his fault so easily. Jungkook changing the pace of your conversation ruined your momentum, sending you stumbling and scrambling for thoughts.

Jungkook sighed for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line as he let his eyes drop to the floor in your silence. He wasn’t about to lose the opportunity to elaborate further, though.

“Look, I know I fucked up. Bad. I know you can’t possibly forgive me right now, but I want you to know that I’m sorry for the things I’ve done to you.”

Your automatic reaction to being emotionally pushed came back, closing you down and disguising you as a cold woman.

“What the fuck do you know? What the fuck do you know about how badly you fucked up? I don’t need your lame-ass apology, Jungkook. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Stop pretending that you do. Sure, we fucked a little and kissed a few times, but that’s all that it was.” You grit out the last few words, lying through your teeth. “Now please move. You’re blocking the door.”

Shockingly, Jungkook obeyed. He stepped aside and clasped his hands behind his back without another word, allowing you to walk to your door and open it.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

No matter how many times you repeated the words in your head, commanding yourself to abide by the mantra as if it were law, the emotions in your head managed to break through and force your head to turn back after stepping through the doorway.

Jungkook stood as still as a statue, staring at you with a blank expression that was almost eerie. You glanced down quickly, unable to maintain the eye contact, and noticed that his knuckles were clenched.

It was almost as if he was a completely different person because of the fact that his appearance was drastically different from that of BTS Jungkook. The man that stood in front of you was no rockstar. He was not an idol nor a role model that millions looked up to.

He was a scared boy. The fear that riddled his eyes was extremely difficult to miss and it made him seem almost small whilst standing in the small junction between the elevator and your penthouse.

You shut the door in his face impulsively, hoping that you wouldn’t have to see him again.

Backing away from the door slightly, you waited until you heard the elevator signal that its doors were closing before going to look through the peephole. You finally released your breath and slumped against the door when you saw that he had left.

Without his presence putting you on edge and keeping you on your toes, you could finally reflect on the conversation that just transpired.

He admitted his wrongdoings and apologized for them. He showed you his belly and became vulnerable. He admitted defeat.

Jungkook wasn’t an apologetic person in the slightest; he wasn’t a forgiving one either. In all the years that you had known him, he was headstrong and stubborn- if you looked past the part where he closed himself off and cheated, of course.

This Jungkook, the one you had just spoken to, was not the one you remember. Maybe you were right. Maybe you didn’t know him anymore.

Your phone vibrating in your pocket distracted you from pondering any further over the epiphany, prompting you to pull it out and fumble with it to get away from the confusing subject. You were thankful for the distraction.

Kim Taehyung (BTS)

I’ll be out front in 15 mins

Cursing internally, you left the idea of Jungkook behind you and rushed to change into clothes better suited for the cold weather.

It was a given that a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips when you slid thick tube socks over your ankles. You hadn’t actually worn tube socks in ages because they didn’t exactly go with your usual professional style of suits and heels.

You zipped your coat up about three-fourths of the way before turning to look at yourself in your mirror with a huff.

Suddenly, you were bombarded with a memory as it flashed before your eyes.

“You know you look good, babe.”

You giggled as Jungkook came up behind you to look at you in the reflection, setting his chin on your shoulder while he used his tongue to toy with the hoop pierced into his lip.

“Thanks, Kook. Just want to look my best is all.” You met his eyes in your bedroom mirror, smiling softly.

“Well, you look beautiful.”

You were left staring at the empty space where his face was, unsure of how to react as you stumbled back from the intrusion. Another meaningless scene came barging into your senses before you could process the first.

“Wow…” You trailed off as you looked at the angry red spot on Jungkook’s chest. A brand new tattoo, the size of your hand, raised out of his skin and shined under the luminescent light of the tattoo parlor. With the tattoo artist cleaning up his station behind the two of you, you were left to admire his beauty in his reflection.

Jungkook stood shirtless in front of the full-length mirror as he smiled brightly at the last tattoo to complete his set. Your eyes drank in the way each exhibit of inked art contrasted with his smooth, caramel expanse of skin while you stood behind him.

The new piece, which was almost large enough to touch the Chinese characters stamped onto the side of his neck and the back of his ear, was a depiction of an angel falling from the heavens. The detail in the blackening feathers attached to the angel’s back was mesmerizing, drawing all of the attention from the rest of the tattoos covering Jungkook’s chest.

“Is there any special meaning behind it?” You asked, knowing that your boyfriend had a few meaningless tattoos that were part of his ‘woke-up-and-it-was-there’ collection.

For a moment, Jungkook stayed silent as he studied the work of art in the mirror. It wasn’t until you called his name again that he answered your question while meeting your gaze in the reflection.

“Nah. It just looked really cool to me.”

You pressed your hand to your forehead and looked away from your mirror, wondering why- now, of all times- you just had to remember those small memories.

You didn’t miss him- you know you didn’t. But something within you twisted at the thought of being with him- the memory of how it felt to be his.

The disconnect between the feelings of your heart and the thoughts of your mind, ever so obvious, shifted. His apology was unexpected, to say the least, but it was also surprisingly heartfelt and pulling on your need to forgive.

Saved by the bell, your landline phone began to ring.

You rushed to the bedside table and grabbed the phone from its dock, pulling it to your ear.

“Ms. Y/L/N? It’s the front desk. Mr. Kim Taehyung is here and waiting for you.”

“Got it. Thank you. I’ll be down in a moment.” You hung up the phone and grabbed your wallet and keys before shuffling over to your desk to grab your briefcase on instinct.

“Wait,” you spoke aloud, laughing at yourself and withdrawing your reach. “I don’t need that.”

As you opened the door to your penthouse, the sound of something lightly hitting your door had you looking down.

A small, navy blue bag, the size of your palm, swung from the doorknob and hit lightly against the wood from the momentum of you opening your door. Confused, you unhooked the loop from the doorknob and looked inside the bag to find a familiar-looking box inside.

Gingerly, you pulled it out and opened it. In the way of the box’s contents was a folded piece of notebook paper with your name scrawled across the top in Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

You held your breath after reading the note and looked down at the small charm.

Since you gave me yours, I’ll give you mine. -jk

In the fabric of the satin display lay the familiar gold chain that Jungkook gifted you those few years ago, but, instead of the small J that you were so familiar with, lay your own initial.

You knew Jungkook’s way with words well enough to know that the small note connected his intentions to the chain. You were instantly pulled back to the night that he gifted the necklace to you in the first place.

“It’s beautiful. Happy one-year, babe.” You whispered onto his lips with a smile.

After you sat back into your seat, Jungkook walked to your side of the table to put the chain around your neck. “I obviously have the describe how much this necklace means so that you never take it off.”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t even dream of taking it off, Kook.”

“I still need to explain. It was like a message from heaven when I saw them in the jewelry store.” He pouted, returning to his seat. “So the idea with these is that we’re wearing parts of each other. You’re wearing the part of me that belongs to you and I’m wearing the part of you that belongs to me.”

Jungkook continued as he raised his glass. “So even though you think this necklace is yours because it’s your letter, it’s actually mine.”

You cocked your head in confusion, struggling to understand the concept. “What are you talking about?”

“It sounded so much better in my head, I swear.”

You understood the idea now.

Push off the emotions. Don’t think about them.

You were hellbent on ignoring the weakness, knowing full well what path you would go down if you let them get to you.

Instead, you made your way down to the lobby with the bag gripped tightly in your mitten-clad hands, heading to the desk with determination furrowing your brow. Even as Taehyung stood from the small sofa in the lobby upon seeing you, you did not spare him a glance.

Forcefully, you thrusted the bag into the receptionists’ face, internally wincing at your rude gesture.

“Please put this in the lost and found. I have no idea where it came from.”

The receptionist did well at hiding his expression, however, you could still see a sense of somber recognition behind his eyes. You decided not to press him seeing as you want to avoid the topic of Jungkook like the plague.

“Understood, ma’am.” He took the bag from your grasp before you had the chance to rethink addressing his slip of emotion, placing it in a drawer by his knee. He looked back up and gestured to Taehyung after locking the drawer. “Mr. Kim is here for you.”

You sighed in a mild sense of accomplishment, forcing yourself to shut out the regret and sadness for giving away a formerly precious memory, before turning to face Taehyung with a small smile to mask your inner turmoil. Your smile faltered when you noticed that Taehyung mirrored the same expression on his face that the receptionist wore.

“What?” You asked, walking to him.

“I just-” He looked down for a moment, scowling, and you noticed he had placed his small barbell back into his eyebrow. “-nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me anything?” The two of you had walked to the door, stopping before going out into the cold so that you could finish your conversation.

“Like I said before, it’s not my place to say or judge.”

Taehyung opened the door to an icy gust of wind before you could protest, chilling you into a mind-numbing stupor as you whispered, “Holy fucking shit.”

“Good god, it is freezing.” Taehyung mumbled, linking an arm around your body and ushering you towards his SUV across the sidewalk.

Once sat inside the warmth of the cabin, you shivered in satisfaction at the heat gracing your body.

“Please tell me we’re not going to be outside for whatever we’re doing.” You pleaded to him. The light from the city was filtered by the darkened car windows, however, you could still see Taehyung’s shoulders moving up and down when he chuckled.

“Unfortunately, we are, but fortunately, I brought some heat packs for us.”

You whined in protest, looking up to the GPS screen in front of the driver to see if you could identify where the two of you were going. Without a route plotted, you were left even more curious.

About twenty minutes of small talk and a brief roast session targeting Hoseok later, you sat in front of the ice skating rink at the Rockefeller Center.

“We’re ice skating?” You asked, suddenly in shock. You hadn’t been ice skating since-

No. Stop it. Your mind warred with itself as it suppressed the memory threatening to spill over into your eyes.

“You’re quite the detective.” Taehyung’s sentence was drenched in sarcasm, functioning as the perfect distraction, and prompted you to lightly shove him with a giggle as you exited the vehicle.

“I thought I was a captain.” You pouted against the cold, pulling your hat down on your head even further in hopes of retaining your body heat and warmth from the van.

“You are.” Taehyung laughed again. “Captain Detective.”

You only rolled your eyes at his playfulness before you turned to face the rink from the sidewalk. A person passing behind you and bumping into your back lightly had you cursing New York City’s busy and bustling population.

Seeing all of the people on the rink, you instantly remembered that you did not inform Jay of your whereabouts.

“Do we have security?” Worry riddled your brain as you turned to look at him with your eyes widening in a panic. You became hyperaware of all of the possible outcomes to Taehyung being identified in such a crowded place.

Taehyung sighed as he walked you up to the ticket booth. “We don’t. I just want to have a normal and plain but fun time with my friend- without someone glaring at me like they don’t want to be here while they breathe down my neck.”

Despite understanding his statement, you couldn’t help the automatic stress to being in public without any form of protection.

“Taehyung,” You warned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Y/N,” He mocked your tone childishly before leveling it to his regular voice. “Relax, weirdo. We’re here to have fun and people are too busy having their own fun to notice us.”

“I doubt that.”

It wasn’t until you got your rental skates tightly secured onto your feet and began walking toward the ice that Taehyung mentioned a vital detail that he definitely should have mentioned prior to arriving at the center.

“You what?” You were baffled to say the least.

“I can’t skate.” He sheepishly brought his hand to the back of his head and adjusted his trapper hat under your scrutiny.

“Then why did we come?” You were almost yelling at that point.

“Because Brian told me that you liked ice skating!” Taehyung gripped at your fingers tightly, anxiety getting the best of him.

Fucking hell, Brian.

“Did he?” Your laugh was almost hysterical because of how wrong he was. You were becoming increasingly hesitant about giving your personal assistant a raise now.

Still, it was worth the effort. Brian was just trying to help the world’s most popular bassist when he came to him in need of information. It was a decent attempt.

“Yeah,” Taehyung huffed. “He did.”

“Well, Tae, I’ll have you know,” You moved towards the ice rink with determination. “I haven’t been ice skating in ages and I hardly like it. Hopefully, I still have muscle memory.”

“Oh god.” Taehyung groaned, tipping his head back as the feeling of imminent and utter chaos ensued. “Fucking hell, Brian.”

As soon as you stepped on the ice, you realized that you were still perfectly coordinated enough to complete the task.

Taehyung, on the other hand, clung to the walls like the world was attempting to swallow him into the ground. Dutifully, you stood next to him with a cautious hand on his back in the case that he went tumbling.

The sight was one to behold.

Kim Taehyung, hard core rockstar- the physical definition of a stereotypical ‘bad boy’- with tattoos littering his skin and a glistening eyebrow piercing that was winking at you from under his gray trapper, stood hunched over and afraid as he moved baby step-by-baby step to proceed further around the rink. You couldn’t help but giggle as the man who possessed the prowess of an elegant panther on stage adopted the likes of a stumbling newborn giraffe within the span of five minutes.

You were still concerned for him despite how funny it was. Tentatively, you reached your hand to grip his shoulder and urged him to look at you.

“Tae, are you okay? We can do something else if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay.” He wheezed in effort. “I got this.”

Making a show out of how brave he was, Taehyung stood up straight on shaky legs and began progressing forward by attempting to walk on the ice.

“I can show you how t-” Taehyung cut off your offer before you could finish it.

“I’ve been shown countless times how to skate and the best I can do is walk and maybe slide forward a little. I’m a lost cause, Y/N.” Even though he seemed upset, Taehyung couldn’t help but crack a smile at how clumsy he was.

You smiled pitifully at your clumsy friend before you stepped in front of him. “Here, hold onto my shoulders and we’ll slide forward together.”

All Taehyung could do was begrudgingly agree, hating the idea of having to lean on you for support but wanting to remain close to you for the majority of the night. Once he placed his hands tightly on your shoulders, you moved.

At first, you skated slowly so that Taehyung could adjust to the feeling of being pulled forward. Once he got the hang of keeping his legs locked so that you could move around easier, you skated at a normal speed.

After about ten minutes of joking around and catching Taehyung’s slipping form a handful of times, your mind was left free and without defense.

You hadn’t realized how vulnerable you were because of it.

“Y/N, slow down! I can’t go that fast!”

Your breathing came to a halt at the voice that echoed in your ears.

“Here, hold my hand and we’ll skate together.”

Panicking, you rushed your mind to shut it out. No. Stop.

Unknowingly, the chaos in your mind and the desperate need to get away from the memories had you gradually increasing your own speed to subconsciously escape your thoughts.

Taehyung’s nervous laugh and call of your name in warning fell on deaf ears while you furrowed your eyebrows in concentration.

“See? It’s easy. Just step and lean. Step- and lean.” His hand clutched yours as if he was trying to squeeze all of the blood from your fingers but you only squeezed back in reassurance.

“Don’t let me fall, please.”

Taehyung’s skate crashing into the back of yours served as the perfect distraction, yet it only lasted for a split second as the two fo you went tumbling to the ice in a hauntingly familiar manner.

In the process of falling, Taehyung had managed to wrap his arms around your waist and twist his body so that he could take most of the impact from the ice. Landing on top of him with an ‘oof’ reminded you of the last time you went ice skating.

Even with your face mere centimeters from your friend’s, all you saw was him.

Taehyung’s small puffs of air against your lips were an indicator of how close you were to kissing him. Truly, you could kiss him if you wanted to, needing only to relax your neck and let your head fall to close the rest of the minimal gap between you. He looked up at you with wide eyes, holding onto your gaze with an unreadable expression on his face.

All you saw, however, was a small mole dotting the underside of his lips. Fuck, you wanted to kiss Taehyung and rid yourself of the nightmare, but you couldn’t shake the sensation of how wrong it felt to kiss anyone but Jungkook.

“Y/N,” Taehyung called your name cautiously and pulled you from your thoughts. Instantly, your eyes welled with tears at the realization of how fucked you were.

You yanked yourself from him with abandon, needing to get far away from the reminder that you couldn’t move on.

Kim Taehyung was mature. He was kind and respectful- everything you could ask for in a man- yet the thoughts of Jungkook and the good memories you had with him outweighed the bad, preventing you from truly letting go.

Before Taehyung could protest, you stood and left him on the ice, making for a quick exit. You wanted to go back and help him up so that he wasn’t in danger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at his face in this setting.

Instead, you skated off the rink and walked to the skate rental area, plopping down on the bench weakly to untie the laces. Once you did so, you set them on the counter and waited for your boots with your eyes on the ground. You didn’t want anyone to see you on the brink of crying.

“Y/N!” Taehyung’s voice was loud and attention-grabbing. You had half the mind to be concerned that he would cause people to notice him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you finally got your boots and rushed to put them on. Taehyung was finally off the ice when you slid the first boot on.

“Y/N,” He called your name again, awkwardly approaching you with the blades still on his feet. “Please, talk to me.”

You could only sniffle in response and continue to put your boots back on, a fresh wave of tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You’d kept them at bay thus far but Taehyung was making it extremely difficult as his comfort approached you. The welcome yet heartbreaking aura he exhumed paired with your teetering emotional stability wouldn’t fare well in such a public setting.

Without hesitation, you stood and walked away once you were done securing your shoes back on your feet. Again, you felt the urgent need to be alone.

And again, Taehyung was right behind you as he ran without putting his shoes back on.

“Y/N!” He grabbed you as he called your name more sternly, forcing you to face him. Your eyes met his briefly before you looked back down to the pavement and cursed yourself once a tear slipped out. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Because I-” Your breath caught in your throat as it constricted due to the beginning of a sob building in your chest. You cleared your throat and struggled to breathe your way through your response- one you had trouble communicating. “-I just can’t.”

Taehyung grimaced, looking around with concern, before he ushered your body to begin walking away from the busy area.

Once you were a good distance down the street, he grabbed both of your shoulders and forced you to face him once again. Away from the well-lit area of the ice rink, the only light that shone in the middle of the dark night was that of the street lights. With bated breath, you looked up at your friend with your mouth closed tightly so that the sob in your chest wouldn’t come barging past your lips.

The pain was nearly unbearable. It anguished you, knowing that you were stupid enough to think that you could eventually move on from Jungkook. It pained you, being aware of the fact that Taehyung had offered himself to you and you did nothing but continue to look at Jungkook.

But most of all, it hurt that you still wanted Jungkook.

If only you could reach into your chest and tear your heart out so that you couldn’t feel anymore. If only you could shut off your feelings so that it didn’t agonize you like this. If only it were that easy.

Under the light of the street lamps with Taehyung’s look of pity- the one he held as he looked at you across the club on that dreadful night those few years ago- on you, you broke.

As you began sobbing, Taehyung pulled you against his body and backed up into the darkness to give you the privacy to cry without being seen.

The pain stabbed your heart repeatedly; quick blows, shallow at first, became increasingly deep as you drowned in the memories of what once was.

Falling so passionately in love became your biggest regret. For so long, you hated the idea. You hated the fact that you still loved Jungkook notwithstanding the things he had done. You denied the fact until you started seeing the good memories again- until it was an unavoidable and objective truth.

The truth that you still loved him.

As Taehyung held you tightly in his embrace while you held your hands to your face and dug your nails into your skin, you sobbed uncontrollably at how completely and royally fucked you were.

“W-why-” You blubbered into your palms. “-why do I-I still lo-ove him?”

“Because your heart wants what it wants, Y/N. You have no control over that.”

At this point, you had to tell him how you felt- how you truly felt.

“I w-wish that it wa-anted you. I’m so sorry, T-Tae.”

“Hey, now. Don’t say that. It’s a waste of time to wish for things that you have no control over. Don’t waste a wish on something stupid like that.” Taehyung pressed his face to the top of your head, pressing his lips there to leave a small kiss. “Besides, I have someone waiting for me back home so you don’t need to worry anymore.”

Instantly, you looked up at him in shock while still hiccuping. “You do?”

“Of course.” Taehyung laughed warmly, smiling down at you. “I wasn’t gonna be stuck on you forever. One way or another, you move on.”

“It’s been years since I’ve even seen him, Tae. The fact that I still haven’t moved on despite that has to tell you something.”

“Which is why I told you that you still need to talk to him. You can’t move on or do anything about the way you feel unless you communicate it.” He pulled back to bend his body to become eye-level with you so that he could look you in the eyes as he spoke. “There’s things you don’t know.”

For a moment, you weighed his words in your mind. If they’re things that Taehyung can’t tell you because they’re ‘not his place’ to say, then you figure that the matter must be a serious one. Your curiosity was getting the best of you. It wasn’t long before you gave in.

“Yeah…” You trailed off in hesitation, suddenly regretting shutting out Jungkook. “I guess I do need to talk to him.”

“Please just… take your time and be patient with him.” Taehyung winced slightly. “He’s hot-headed but he’s a lot better than he was before. I promise you that.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Taehyung.” You scowled as you backed out of his embrace.

“You know I don’t. I would never suggest that you talk to him if he was the same as he was before.”

A few beats of silence passed before you asked the question that had been nagging at your mind since your revelation of remaining love for the lead singer of BTS.

“Do you think we still have a chance?”

Taehyung answered immediately. “That’s not my place to judge. All I know is that you guys did something sad like being broke up even though you had life.”

“Good god, Tae,” You huffed out a laugh. “Are you quoting Lil Dicky right now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Taehyung crossed his arms and let out a small ‘hmph’ as he lightly stomped his foot onto the sidewalk. “And you can’t stop me.”

For a while, Taehyung let you catch your breath and calm down while looking up and down the street. It seemed as if he was planning something.

Before you could process what he was doing, Taehyung took you by your arm, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and began walking across the street. You looked up in the direction of your path and noticed that you were heading towards the quaint coffee shop that seemed to be the only open place at the current hour.

Your eyes hurt from crying. Your chest ached from sobbing and hiccuping. Your heart and head hurt as they came to blows with each other. You were slowly beginning to freeze as the calming of your emotions slowed your heart and cooled your body. It was so fucking cold.

You could use a coffee right about now.

~#~

Thank you for reading, reader! If you’d like to check out the rest of my work, feel free to visit my Masterlist!

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bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love · 4 years

Text

MARKED

A kinda request. It was mentioned in one of my comment sections by someone who always likes, comments my stuff. I wanted to do it for them. Still not writing stories just yet, but writing helps my mental state so I needed this. Anyway they wanted Shigaraki and marking. Sorry it's not longer but hope you enjoy @study-milk

SMUT 18+ WARNINGS=LICKING-BITING-BLOOD-CHOKING-BRUISES-HICKEYS

Would Shigaraki enjoy marking, biting, and or licking. Fuck yes. Of course, he relishes it. He's a deviant and will never pass up a chance to bite and lick you. He will leave his marks all over you.

This man wants to taste every part of you. Inch by inch, devouring you. Taking his time to cherish and worship you. Tracing your body with his tongue, delving into each opening and crevice. Loving the taste of you on his tongue. Licking and biting, salivating at the flavor of you, craving more. His appetite for you drives him, making him mad with lust. Leaving paths of patterns and designs all over you, like a map proving he was there.

Teeth sinking into your skin, needing more, wanting more, always more, it was never enough, his hunger will never be sated. He is a ravenous man at a feast and you are his four course meal. Your an addiction, he can't stop. A drug he needs more and more of. As soon as he is satisfied with one spot he moves to another area, leaving no spot untouched. He can spend hours making sure you are covered.

Needing to see the imprints marking your perfect flesh. Your neck would harbor finger shaped bruises cause the man loves his hands on you. Wrapped tightly around your delicate throat. It would be decorated with hickeys, he sucks deeply drawing blood to the surface under his harsh actions.

Once he gets going he doesn't stop till he has his fill. You squirming and whimpering for him to stop just adds to the ecstasy of it, spurring him on, making him rougher, needier, his cock growing with every whine from your lips, twitching with every lick and taste. His pre-cum dripping from the tip. Leaving your body littered with bites, bruises and hickeys. His saliva leaves sticky trails up and down your helpless form. There's not one spot he misses.

Teeth prints brand your throat, he can't help it. He gets so into the feeling of you against him, under him, panting and writhing, he wants to leave an impression, proof he was there.

The little noises you make just encourage him. Biting and sucking deeper. He goes a little too deep, drawing blood from you which he eagerly laps up, the coppery liquid flowing into his mouth. Blood staining his lips.

No one ever said he was nice or gentle. His hold on you growing firmer, clutching you to his body, cutting off any chance for escape. Imprisoning you. Feeling you wriggle in his arms is such a high for him. This only proves to make him harder, which in return makes him more feral.

He can wreck you with just his mouth. Bringing you to orgasm using just that, knowing this inflates his already large ego.

He will suck on your neck till you're a trembling mess in his arms. He knows the most sensitive areas and will concentrate all his attention on those spots. Hand wound around your throat daring you to move. He will work his way around your throat, down your chest, over your breasts sts, down your stomach to your thighs, parting them wide before settling between your spread legs and attacking them. He can get extra savage here. Your legs shaking around his head as he holds them in place as to accomplish his task.

All these marks serve to remind you, when you look in the mirror, that you are his prey, you are weak, he conquered you, he is strong, you are his. Even a kiss from him is demanding and intense. Taking your breath away.

He bites hard, he wants to hear you moan and cries as he pierces your skin. He wants his art to be dark, leaving no question that it's there, and of what it is. No make up in the world will conceal it. Don't even try, he will not take to kindly to that. Your punishment would be severe.

Once he is through your neck looks like something out of a horror movie. Choke marks, bruises, bites, hickeys. Even the other league members look shocked when they see it.

Your chest and thighs fair no better. The man is a beast in the bedroom, how did you think you weren't going to wear his ownership around your neck, or the rest of your body for that matter. Sides of your plump breast, the insides of your fleshy thighs, are all dark purple, black and blue.

Get used to being covered in all the different various kinds of marks he gifts you with, and no he doesn’t let them heal before adding to the collection. You will always be marked up, always. He is obsessed with it. He has to mark up up, the feeling, the power, the dominance.

Having others see them makes Shigaraki proud, cocky, because they know what they are, where they came from and who gave them to you. Knowing how long he must have sucked. How hard he bit into you. How he did it over and over. The state you were in. The sexuality of it. The more you have the better, the darker, even better.

This man is a possessive, jealous, controlling, dominating lover. You belong to him and he will make damn sure everyone knows. In his mind the marks mean no touching, look what i did. I own her. MINE.

He has laid claim to you, god forbid someone tries to talk to you, or touch you he does not hesitate, they will be dust on the floor, or sometimes he likes to beat the hell out of them first for touching his property.

He may look frail but the man can fight. One last note, he doesn't care where you are when the need hits. Even if others are around he will pull you to him, entrapping you before latching onto your skin, usually it's your neck. A word of warning: do not fight this man, he gets pissed quickly and will take it out on you later in the privacy of your bedroom.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki #my hero academia shigaraki #my hero academia #bnha shigaraki

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texanredrose · 6 years

Text

I Fought The Law

Winter sat down at her new desk.

Frankly, after being discharged from the Atlesian Military due to a... disagreement with a superior officer, she’d expected some manner of exile from her home. Father hadn’t been pleased when his wayward eldest child’s name appeared in headlines, bringing the Schnee family under renewed scrutiny seeing as his middle daughter had disappeared subsequent to a public blowout with the man at a charity ball not too long ago. Leaving the kingdom seemed the best course of action, at least until the tabloids had something else to chase.

However, truth be told, she didn’t see much sense in returning. It would just mean being subject to her father’s whims again and she’d found herself unable to agree with the man’s business practices for far too long, much less his personality. In fact, most of Atlas’ social mores grated on her nerves, so accepting a job offer in Vale seemed like the best of her options: it put a sea between her and the rest of her family, it likely would be where she’d find her sister, and it provided her with board and a stable income while she lived there.

“Sheriff?”

But there existed a few... caveats.

She looked up, watching as the Mayor of the small town trudged in, a heavy weight to his brow. Young- younger than herself, at any rate- but already looking far past his years as he pulled out the chair on the other side of her desk and plopped down. At least a head taller than her with broad shoulders and deeply tanned skin, Yatsuhashi would be entirely out of place among the cold snow of Atlas, though her blended in with the locals far better than she did- a foreigner in a strange land, yet given a badge and expected to uphold laws like someone born to it. Were she a little less keen, she might blame this peculiar choice on his inexperience or his youth, but Winter had done her research prior to accepting the position.

No local would be foolish enough to take the badge.

“Can I help you, Mayor Dashi?”

“Yatsu, please. We’re a bit informal around here.” He ran a hand over his face and sighed.

She couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Yet, you address me as ‘Sheriff’, even before my first official day on the job.”

“Well, allow me to rephrase.” He gave her a wan smile. “We’re informal but you’re the newcomer we gotta butter up to keep around.”

“Tell me, what’s so difficult about this position that it’s remained open for so long?” Tilting her head, she watched the line of his shoulders become more tense, as if dreading that very question. So, she decided to do one better. “And why won’t any local take it?”

“You may be new around here but I suspect you know a thing or two about the Branwen gang? Maybe the White Fang gang, too?”

That brought a frown to her lips. “Yes, to both. Notorious gangs that are responsible for multiple robberies, constantly eluding arrest- both make their home somewhere on the Vale frontier. The location varies based on the telling.”

“Well, wonder no more.” He pointed towards the door. “To the west, we have the White Fang gang’s territory.” Then towards the back wall of the jail. “To the east, the Branwen gang.” A sigh left his lips as he passed a hand over his face. “We’re smack between them. If they aren’t tearing up the town in shootouts, they’re taking turns stealing our cattle and supplies. Half the town wants to leave but we’ve no place to go. The only way out is to join one gang or the other and we’re honest folk.” The Mayor spread his hands. “If we don’t do something soon, we’re gonna starve out here.”

Winter pressed her lips into a thin line, looking down at the twin six shooters holstered at her thighs. She didn’t bring many personal effects from Atlas aside from her pistols and a saber from her service but the last sheriff at least left behind a long rifle for her to use, currently mounted on the far wall. If she’d known the odds she’d be facing, she would’ve tried smuggling a few more weapons in her luggage.

Then her eyes went to the shining, five pointed star badge set on the desk. “Very well. Do you have any information on the bandits most often seen around town?”

The Mayor nodded, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a thin stack of papers. “Here are the wanted posters we had printed up a few months ago. We... don’t have the money for a reward but these five have stirred up enough trouble that even Vale is offering a reward.”

“So, catch them, turn them over to the feds, and use the reward money to save the town.”

“That’s the plan.”

“I’m glad there’s no pressure.” She held out a hand. “Tell me more about them.”

As he handed her the posters, she looked them over, listening intently to the information provided. Any bit of advantage she could get would be vital.

“That first one there is known only as The Belladonna- a cat Faunus thief who excels at train robberies. She’s usually content to just take what she wants and leave without hurting anyone.” Winter looked at the crude ink rendering, hair and ears blending together. No scars or birth marks- fairly nondescript but there weren’t many Faunus in the area- or humans, for that matter- so spotting her out shouldn’t be too difficult. “She operates with a partner, the current leader of the White Fang gang. He’s known as ‘The Bull’ for... fairly obvious reasons.” A bull Faunus- how original- with back swept horns and an ornate mask of some sort obscuring his eyes. “He’s... much more trouble.”

“Is he ever seen without his mask?”

“Not that anyone’s lived to tell.”

She nodded. Frankly, she didn’t think it wise to confront the primarily Faunus White Fang gang right off the bat. Given her lineage, she’d likely bring more trouble than the group already gave the small town. Best to give it time, see if she could establish a persona distinct from her family before attempting to make contact- or, if that failed, have a plan ready for when the all out war began. “And the other three?”

“Branwen gang.” Yatsuhashi grimaced. “First one’s the leader, Raven Branwen. She’s... somethin’ alright. Usually doesn’t come around unless there’s a big prize on a train or a big herd passing through.” Wild hair, a scowl, and a bandanna around her neck- again, rather nondescript, save for the peculiar cowlick. “Then, there’s Qrow Branwen- he’s Raven’s brother. Mostly just a lousy drunk who’ll trash the saloon once he can’t walk straight.” Scruff along his jaw and a cocky smirk that seemed to radiate indifference, he had the same messy hair even if he lacked the scowl. “And then, there’s Yang Branwen. Raven’s kid, probably gonna take over the gang one day. She’s the heavy hitter, goes on almost every run the gang goes on. Don’t let her get in close; she has a wicked right hook that’ll put your lights out.”

Same cowlick as her mother, but where the other woman had a wild mess of black ink for hair, Yang didn’t, nor the scowl. Just a bandanna around her neck and a little smirk- not as cocky, but certainly speaking to a level of arrogance.

She could use that.

“How old is Yang?”

Yatsuhashi seemed surprised by the question, scratching at the hollow of his jaw for a moment. “Dunno. Couldn’t be more than twenty-five? I heard somewhere that she’s got a little sister, just a few years younger, and that she’s about my age, so right around mid twenties. Why?”

“I have an alteration I’d like to make.” A small grin curled her lips. Time to find out exactly what sort of outlaws she was dealing with here. “If you could make the correction and then send these out to every neighboring town, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“What’s the change, Sheriff?”

Winter hoped, at the very least, that she didn’t make things worse.

Yang lifted her scarf a little higher, covering up her nose as they rode into town. One of the bigger ones down by the river, good place for gambling or liquor, but she and Junior were there for neither this time around. They needed to gather information about a supposed train that would be passing through laden with taxes from southern Vale bound for the capitol- a payday they hoped to get before the White Fang gang caught wind of it. After the last time they’d crossed paths with the rival bandits, they’d adopted a policy of avoiding each other- Raven had mentioned something about ‘ideological similarities’ but didn’t bother to elaborate.

Not that the woman ever did, of course. Her mother had somehow mastered the art of being both straightforward and cryptic in the same breath, an admirable but ultimately frustrating skill that Yang didn’t want in the slightest.

“You’re thinkin’ ‘bout your ma again,” Junior said, his hat pulled low over his eyes as their horses walked along the main road towards the saloon. “You always start poutin’ when you think about her.”

“I ain’t poutin’,” she replied, clearing her throat and adjusting her hat a bit. Probably one of the best ways to hide whenever she went out and about happened to be wearing a hand to cover her cowlick and tying her hair back, plus swapping her usual orange scarf for a dusty old grey one. “I just hate doing the recon part. Why can’t Qrow do this, or the twins?”

“Because your ma says you gotta learn how to do it.” The man leaned away and spat some of his chewing tobacco on the ground before turning a pointed look towards her. “Without starting a bar fight.”

“I didn’t start it last time!” She couldn’t help but smirk. “I did finish it, though.”

As they moved further into town, they passed the large wooden board filled with notices- calls for workers, latest news from the capitol, and more than a few wanted posters. Yang couldn’t help but sneak a peak at them, her spirits lifting even higher.

“Heh, my bounty went up again,” she said, pulling back on the reins as a furrow came to her brow, looking back at the board to confirm what she’d seen. “Wait a minute...”

“C’mon, kid, we can stroke your ego later, let’s-”

“Now hold on.” Swinging her leg over the saddle, she dismounted and kept her reins in hand, stepping closer to the board to inspect her poster. Aside from a pretty good artist’s rendering of her and the higher bounty, one other thing happened to catch her eye. “Wanted for... stealing my heart?” Junior stepped up beside her, chest stuttering as he tried to contain his amusement. “See Sheriff of Pastel- Pastel, ain’t that the city on the border of our territory and the White Fang’s?”

“You mean the place we shot to Hell and back last month? Yeah, that’s the place.” Junior spat again. “Last I heard, they hired some lady from Atlas to come be the Sheriff.”

“Atlas, huh?” Yang tilted her head to the side and mulled it over.

On the one hand, if this new Sheriff might be trying to get on her good side, maybe arrange a little... quid pro quo on behalf of the town, well, that was one thing. But if she wasn’t...

... well, the bandit couldn’t rightly tell what would be the aim otherwise.

“What crazy idea just popped into that head o’ yours?” He clapped her on the shoulder. “You aren’t seriously considering turning yourself over to some lady o’ the law, are you?”

“Nah.” Her lips lifted into a wide, bright smile. “But it would be awfully rude not to go introduce myself properly.”

Winter tied off her horse- a gift from the town, just like her rarely visited lodging and almost everything else she could claim to own- to the post just outside the jail, reaching up to remove her hat while glancing at the sun setting behind the line of storefronts across the street. Unlike Atlas, with its mountains and clouds, the flat land of Vale and clear sky allowed for beautiful hues of orange, pink, and purple to streak the sky as the day’s heat slowly dissipated. It would be a warm night with only the lanterns to keep her company as she studied the maps of the surrounding area, the property lines and trails the crisscrosses the frontier. At the very least, she could take off her long coat and spurs, maybe even unbutton her surcoat. Let down her hair and brush it out, try to assuage the tension built up over hours of riding around the town to visit the people, understand their needs.

Really, it just boiled down to keeping the gangs out of town. It seemed both simple and impossible at the same time.

Pushing through the door to the jail, Winter came to a dead stop as she hung her hat on the nail beside the door frame, in the process of removing her gloves and slipping her coat off one shoulder when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, a sure sign she was being watched. Sure enough, when she looked over at the desk, she saw her- Yang Branwen, in the flesh, sitting in her chair with her boots propped up on the desk, dirt falling from the sole and one point of her starred spur digging into the wood. That cowlick, the orange bandanna around her neck, the arrogant-bordering-on-cocky smile, no doubt she now stood face-to-face with one of the most wanted women in all of Vale, if not Remnant.

“Evenin’, Sheriff.” Lilac eyes gave her a once over as her smile widened. “I heard you were looking for me. Somethin’ about... stealing your heart? Quite a charge, if I do say so myself.”

“Well, I’m very aware of my tastes,” she said, taking off her long coat and hanging it beside her hat with her gloves tucked into the pocket. On the one hand, it put her pistols on display, strapped to her thighs as they were. Not that she’d need them, of course. However, when she turned back towards the desk, she noted that the threats were ignored for the moment, the bandit’s gaze intead tracing over her bare arms, her surcoat and shirt beneath lacking sleeves and hugging her frame rather flatteringly- which she had to bank on for the time being. “Although I must admit the pictures didn’t do you justice.”

“That so?” Removing them from the desk, Yang got to her feet and sauntered around, leaning back against the wood and cocking her head to one side, crossing her arms over her chest. Large biceps flexed with the motion, moving beneath tanned skin, just like her abdominal muscles stood out prominently from beneath the hem of her shirt, the leather vest over top doing little to hide the considerable solidity of her frame. One pistol hung on her hip, the other on her thigh, and she had two bits of fabric- one wrapped around her left bicep, the other just below her left knee- that had to hold some sort of significance. The bandit looked more like a mountain personified- strong, stable, immobile- and Winter would need to tread carefully. She might win a gunfight, but she’d lose hand-to-hand. “Why don’t you tell me more?"

“Looking for flattery, are you?” Summoning a childhood spent playing a part and even her military training, Winter flashed a dazzling, charming smile and began sauntering her way towards the bandit, counting her steps in the back of her mind. “Very well. I’ll admit, the first thing that caught my eye was your smile. Ink simply doesn’t do it justice.”

“Yeah?” It probably wasn’t intentional, the way her lips pulled wider at that, but it served as a good sign that she was on the right track.

“Of course. It speaks of confidence, a zest for life- both very... attractive qualities.” She reached up, unbuttoning the first button on her surcoat. “Then, your hair.”

“Really?” The leather of her gloves creaked a little as she reached up to tease at blonde strands, and that told just as much as any other part of this encounter. The bandit had put on new gloves for their meeting with old spurs- she prized functionality but wanted to make a good impression all the same. Curious.

“Wild and untamed, much like the frontier- your disregard for the law, I think, is more rooted in an understanding of what true freedom is rather than simply vagrancy.” Winter had nearly made it within arms’ reach, one of her hands sliding towards her belt while the other reached up, pushing her bangs towards her right ear.

Yang tilted her head, tucking her thumbs into her belt. “And what is ‘true freedom’ to you?”

“The ability to choose. To make your own priorities, your own rules- to seek that which you... want most.” Lowering her voice, the Sheriff took a single step closer. “To not let anything stop you, least of all the opinions of others.”

“I can’t say you’re wrong so far.” Yang pushed off the desk, and only now did it occur to either of them that the bandit stood almost a full head shorter than Winter, but that didn’t seem to bother her in the least. “I definitely get what I want, when I want it. I take it for myself, with my own two hands.”

Winter chuckled, eyes flicking down to confirm the bandit had started reaching for her hips. “I think you have the right idea. Perhaps I should take a page out of your book.”

One hand reached towards the blonde’s face, an action that seemed to be encouraged by the twinkle in lilac eyes. She canted her head, as if she might be going in for a kiss...

... right before she moved her other hand, slapping her handcuffs onto the bandit’s wrists in one fluid motion she’d practiced all week.

“What...” Yang blinked, looking down and tugging at the bonds now binding her hands together. “... the hell just happened?”

“What I want is to place you under arrest.” Winter smirked, torquing her wrist to put pressure on the cuffs and bringing the bandit to her knees with a pained groan. “And it seems I’ve gotten it.”

“Wait, did, you, what?” With a rough jerk, the blonde had no choice but to follow her until she found herself roughly thrown into the awaiting jail cell adjacent to Winter’s desk, rolling on the floor as the door slammed shut. “WHAT’S GOING ON?”

“I realize this may be something of a novelty for you, but you’ve just been arrested and detained pending transport to proper authorities.” The Sheriff briskly explained, buttoning her surcoat against and tucking the cell’s key into the pouch on her belt. “You have a cot and facilities; I’ll bring you dinner shortly.”

Getting to her feet, the bandit walked to the cell door, griping the bars with her hands and frowning. “You set me up.”

“No, I merely baited you; you set yourself up. Rather nicely too, might I add.” Winter flashed a smile- a little smug, if only because of how easy the whole process proved to be. “It’s surprising you’ve remained free this long, all things considered.”

For a moment, Yang just stared, before a laugh burst through her lips. “Alright, Sheriff. What’s your name?”

“Winter.”

“Winter, huh?” She nodded, turning around and heading to the cot, plopping down on it with a sigh and leaning back against the wall. “Good job, Sheriff Winter. You got one o’ us. That won’t work on my Ma or Uncle, though.”

“If they don’t come looking for you themselves, you mean?” She shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll deal with them when the time comes.” Winter turned towards the door. “I’ll fetch your dinner. Just sit tight.”

A smile curled the bandit’s lips. “Oh, you’re actually hotter when you’re smug than when you’re fake flirty.”

Ignoring it, she left the jail and started for the saloon- they didn’t offer much in the way of food, but a pot always sat bubbling over the fire, so it would do for now.

Yang leaned her head back until it hit the wall. “So... this didn’t go like I’d planned.”

Honestly, she hadn’t expected much. After hearing a little bit about the new Sheriff in town, the bandit thought swinging by and seeing what sort of offer would be on the table warranted her attention. It never even crossed her mind that she might be walking into a trap; maybe her Ma had the right of it. She’d gotten complacent recently, riding on their notoriety to do most of the work for her. Three years ago, she would’ve seen the set up for what it was.

And... okay, maybe she would’ve fallen for it anyway. The Sheriff had strikingly blue eyes and carried herself like she could walk through fire unblinking, and wearing so many layers in this heat constituted a bold choice. It... gave her reason to pause and consider, at least, what it might be like if Winter had meant any of her flirtation in all seriousness. She didn’t have the same musculature as Yang did, a little softer in the arms and belly, but that didn’t count as a bad thing by the blonde’s estimations. Pure white hair, like the snow she’d read about- a unique trait, for sure. Her lips looked soft, if a bit cracked from the heat, and she’d have liked the chance to lick them smooth.

Maybe she should stop by a brothel on her way back to camp. Because, much to the Sheriff’s chagrin, Yang didn’t plan on spending longer than a night within the walls of the jail.

The door swung open and she looked over, noting the bowl with a spoon stuck in it held in one hand and a glass of water in the other. By the smell, some manner of stew, which would be good enough to hold her over. She hadn’t exactly planned on staying for dinner but wouldn’t turn down hospitality.

“Here,” the Sheriff said, putting both through the bars and waiting for her to come over and take them. “I’ll fetch you breakfast in the morning but that’s it. No midnight snacks.”

“Yeesh, maybe they should call you Warden instead.” Heading back over to the cot, Yang plopped down against and started eating as best she could with her wrists in cuffs. “This why you came all the way out here? Rustle up some bandits, be the long arm of the law?”

“That’s just what pays the bills.” The woman went over to her desk and sat down, pulling out a telegraph request from one of the drawers. “I came out here for the same reason you did. I needed a fresh start.” Around a mouthful of stew, she couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head. “What’s so amusing?”

“I didn’t choose this. I’m out here because I ain’t got no place else to go.” She paused to sip the water- likely, the only bit she’d get until she busted herself out. “I was born into it. Kinda.”

“Everyone has a choice.” The Sheriff frowned at her. “The Branwen gang’s only been active for twenty years or so and you’re a bit older than that.”

“Yeah, that part’s true, I guess.” Her head lolled to the side, a smile on her lips. “But when your choices are staying with the only family you have and leaving... what would you pick?”

“I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong person that question.” She turned her attention back to the paper in front of her. “I’ve done all I can to leave my family behind.”

“I admire that.” Another mouthful of stew. “I can’t imagine it, really. I think Ma wishes I’d leave sometimes but... she’s all I know.”

“You don’t have a father?”

“Not anymore.” She paused, a frown tugging at her lips. “He was a good man, Ma says. He lived on Patch- it’s an island, just off the northern coast. Ma liked him well enough but she hated the idea of living on an island- said it was like a prison, with the sea as the guard. She didn’t know until she’d made it all the way out here that she was pregnant with me and, by that time, traveling back would have to wait until I was born.” With as many times as she’d heard the story, she’d committed it to heart. It kept her motivated. “She came out here to raise cattle. Liked being able to see a horizon that stretched on forever, that she could just walk in any direction if she wanted to and nothing and no one could stop her. Once I was old enough to eat solid food, she figured it’d be safe to take me back to Patch and leave me with my Pa. But, when she got there...” This was always the part where Ma’s expression turned tight and dark, and danger flashed in her eyes. “They told her he’d been killed. Executed for supporting the old King even after the new government took over.” With the spoon, she stirred the contents of the bowl. It was strange, feeling sorrow for someone she’d never met, but it always made her wonder what it would’ve been like growing up with him instead. No burglaries, no hustlin’ pool, no evading the law or killing other bandits before they got her first, and no horses, no cattle, no unrelenting sun- just a normal life beneath the shade of trees and listening to the lapping sea every night. “My Ma thought about leaving me with his wife and her kid but... she was too mad to think straight. She and Pa didn’t see eye-to-eye on things, but she didn’t want him dead. So we came back out here, and Ma started up the gang. Guess she figured, if the new government wanted bloodshed that bad, she’d be the one to give it to ‘em, and she’s made pretty good on it, too.”

Busying herself with the stew, Yang ate as silence filled the room.

“Why tell me all this?” The Sheriff pushed away from her desk, quirking a brow at the cell.

“Well, for one, you probably won’t believe it anyway.” She shrugged. “And, for another, it’s not like I get to talk about it at camp. It just launches another rolling rant about how the government is shit and we’re better off without ‘em.” A sip of water, followed by a bitter chuckle. “Besides, you act like you know the first thing about me, telling me I had a choice in all this. What am I supposed to do? Run off to the big city? Land a job doing... what? The only skills I got ain’t gonna cut it anywhere that glitters. No one’s offering me a way out, so I might as well stick with what works.”

Winter crossed one leg over the other, propping her head up with her arm and resting her elbow on the desk. “Being in a jail cell counts as ‘what works’? That type of thinking will get you killed.”

“Everybody dies,” she replied, jerking her chin towards the Sheriff. “And you’re one to talk. Putting yourself between two gangs is a good way to get yourself killed, too.”

“I’m willing to gamble with my life, if it means securing my happiness.”

“That sounds like a roundabout way of calling me a coward.”

“If the boot fits.”

A smile curled Yang’s lips. “You’re a helluva spitfire, ya know that?”

“Good to know I have your approval.” Getting to her feet, Winter turned towards the door. “I’m going to drop this off at the post office. I’m sure someone from Vale will be here to pick you up in a few days. Until then-”

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Junior stepped in, wearing his nicest duds and a fresh cut to his beard. He actually looked decently respectable. “Oh, apologies, Sheriff. Almost hit ya with the door there.”

“It’s not a problem, Mister...”

“Xiong, though most just call me Hei.” Reaching up, he tipped his hat politely. “I own a saloon down in Pale Valley. Passing this way, heard there’s a new Sheriff in town, thought I’d come an’ introduce myself.”

Winter’s expression hardened a moment later as he turned his head to spit. “Take that outside.” He raised a brow at her, perhaps surprised by the sternness of her tone. “This is a jail, not a saloon, and I’m not a fan of tobacco, no matter the form.”

Slowly, he nodded, stepping towards the door and spitting, hooking a finger through his lip to toss out the wad. “Apologies, Sheriff.”

“Consider yourself warned.” She held up the paper. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have this message sent out tonight.”

“Er, it’s well past sunset, though.” Junior reached up, scratching at his beard. “I, uh, suppose you could go find Ren and ask his to send it anyway, though. He’s a good man, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

For a moment, the Sheriff seemed to mull the idea over, glancing over towards Yang in her cell. “I... suppose it could wait until morning. It’s not like she’s going anywhere.”

Only then did Junior look her way, feigning surprise- and hiding his amusement- rather well. “Well I’ll be a rattlesnake’s uncle, is that Yang Branwen of the Branwen gang?”

“Indeed it is.”

“Damn, Sheriff, you mean business!” A hearty laugh left his lips as he lightly slapped her shoulder. A brief flicker of annoyance passed over her expression for a moment and the bandit had to hide her smile behind the cup of water. “I can’t wait to tell the folks down in Pale Valley about this. Maybe I can convince a few to come and settle out here, with an officer like you protecting people.”

“I’ll thank you to keep this quiet for the time being.” Blue eyes shot her way. “I’d rather have this one sent off before the rest of the gang shows up.”

“Of course, Sheriff.” He smiled and tipped his hat again. “Well, I’d best bunk down for the night. Gotta get up early to make it back to Pale Valley. You have yourself a good night, Sheriff.”

“You too, Mr. Xiong.” Now with her errand postponed until the morning, Winter returned to her desk, setting the telegraph paper down and crossing her arms over her chest.

Finishing off her water, Yang set the cup and bowl just outside her cell door before returning to her cot. “It’s gettin’ mighty late, Sheriff. Aren’t you gonna grab some shut eye?”

“As long as you’re in that cell, I’ll be sleeping here.” She nodded towards a corner the bandit couldn’t see. “So sorry to foil your escape attempt before it’s even began.”

“Now, Sheriff, there’s no reason to be so mean about it.” A chuckle slipped past her lips as she settled back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. But then, her curiosity got the better of her and a question popped out. “What’s so bad about your family that made it so easy for you to turn your back on ‘em?”

Something flickered across the woman’s face- too fast to discern, really- but it caught Yang’s attention all the same, watching as her shoulders rose slightly and expression hardened. She’d touched a nerve, to put it lightly.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Maybe not, but, hey, for as shit as my criminal family is, at least I got people.” She gestured around. “You’re out here all alone.”

“I’ve lived my entire life alone.” A twitch of her eyes, almost a wince- an obvious tell she would’ve missed had she not been watching so closely. “This is nothing new, save for the removal of a pretense otherwise.”

“There’s someone you miss.” Holding up a finger, she smirked. “Just one, I think, but for that one, you do regret not being there.” With a bit of smugness in her tone, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes again. “I may be a coward, but I can honestly say I was there for my family when they needed me. Guess that’s our trade off, Sheriff.”

Yang could feel the icy cold glare shot her way, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end from the shiver she just barely repressed creeping through her. She’d just hammered onto the Sheriff’s hot button hard and, honestly, she was very impressed with the woman’s ability to keep her cool, even as furious as she had to be right then. Being called a coward came often enough when she favored the color yellow as often as she did, so that didn’t bother her none, but if someone had gotten under her skin the way she’d gotten under Winter’s, she’d be punching her way through the wall.

But not the Sheriff. She just sat there, glaring, furious but biting her tongue.

Probably not good for the woman’s health but it wouldn’t matter much longer. With all the information she wanted for the moment, Yang could just sit back and bide her time a little longer.

Winter’s brows furrowed as drew in a deep breath through her nose. Strange- she could smell freshly cooked eggs and bacon. And she didn’t remember making it to her cot the night before, or grabbing her coat to use as a blanket.

Forcing her eyes open, she sat up, her own jacket sliding down as she looked around, blood running cold a moment later.

The jail cell door stood ajar, a plate with scrambled eggs and bacon sitting on her desk, and she quite clearly remembered sitting in her chair prior to nodding off.

Launching herself to her feet, she went over to the desk, finding the telegraph message she’d written the night before turned over and a new message scrawled across the page.

Sorry to disappoint, Sheriff, but I’m afraid I can’t join you for breakfast. Tucked you in proper- you shouldn’t sleep in that chair, ya know. It’s murder on your back. Oh, and thanks for dinner. See you around! -Yang P.S. Glad you didn’t send this message off. That would’ve been mighty embarrassing!

Pressing her lips into a tight line, she crinkled the paper as her hand curled into a fist. “Damned bandit.”

Grudgingly, she sat down at her desk and pulled the plate closer to her.

No reason good food should go to waste.

Yang looked at the horizon, having traveled these parts long enough to pick out even the most minute of landmarks. Given their fresh horses and the sun not being nearly as relentless as usual for this time of year, they’d probably make it back to camp before noon.

“So...” Junior ventured carefully. “We gonna tell Raven about this?”

“Hell no.” A laugh bubbled up from her chest. “You know she hates when I clown on the law. And we ain’t tellin’ Uncle Qrow either; he’s just as bad.”

The look he shot her said that he didn’t believe she was ‘clowning’ in the slightest but he kept silent, the jingling of their tack and beating of their horses hooves the only sound to accompany them.

Yang allowed her mind to wander for a moment, back to the jail. She wondered how mad the Sheriff would be when she woke up and found the plate and note, but she could clearly picture the way her brows would furrow and her lips turn down at the corners in a severe frown.

And she had to admit... it was kinda cute.

#TRR writes #Outlaw!Yang and Sheriff!Winter AU #Elderburn #Monochrome

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inquisitors-art-gallery-blog · 7 years

Photo

Black Library: Damocles and Black Library: The Shape of the Hunt by ukitakumuki

Artist’s Comment

Black Library: Damocles

Check out the e/book here! : www.blacklibrary.com/warhammer… Illustration © Games Workshop Art director/producer: Karen Miksza ++++++++++++++++++++++ The brief for this one was a three-way melee between Kor'sarro Khan of the White Scars, Tau Commander Shadowsun, and Captain Kayvaan Shrike of the Raven Guard, amidst a mixed-force battle of White Scars, Raven Guard, and Cadian IG versus the Tau fighting atop a rocky promontory with jungle. The main focus of the show is Shadowsun, whom according to the reference and specs sent to me, often fields two shield drones. I thought that could be a perfect excuse to not end up in an awkward "2 on 1" prong attack. So that resulted in our assault marine captain Shrike pulling off a DFA and Kor'sarro timing a strike to take out her shield on one side. Given the hardback template/format I decided early on to have two back to back crisis suits behind the main trinary to visually frame the action and hopefully some narrative link to what was going on in the background. While sketching in comp ideas I was thinking of World in Conflict FMVs (yeah I watched a compilation vid of the different sequences but set to just Audioslave's Shadow on the Sun... how apt for our Tau commander ) which inspired that jungle crossfire for the back cover (left of image), along with some physics logic I thought should be observed such as "if plasma based weaponry gets spammed in the general direction of a forest, there should be a moderate to high chance of a forest fire occurring" which kinda explains why we see the charred dirt and branches and hints of trees on fire in the back. Other favourite points of interest that I recall from half a year back: -Singed/scorched Imperial armour versus cracked/gouged tau armour -Drones buzzing a tree (near the sun) -Devastator Raven going head on with the battlesuit turned away from us, armour in the process of being seared off chunk by chunk. -White Scar reading poetry on the lawn in an admirable last stand -Unfortunate IG, now literally half the man he used to be. Courtesy of being in the open when Tau heavy artillery drops. Check back soon for The Shape of The Hunt!!!

Black Library: The Shape of the Hunt

This piece is, in my own way, dedicated to two very unique creatives whose achievements and trust in me have both inspired and helped me take my work to higher levels. Ghislain Barbe( NOT because he is coincidentally now the art director on Eternal Crusade at BHVR , but because when I was a kid I played a PC game called Heavy Gear by Dream Pod 9/Activision, and along with it came a printed game manual with wonderful mecha illustrations and diagrams that blew my little mind, and he was the illustrator of my favourite designs in the book.), and Peter Cooper(an incredibly kind and talented writer/director who years ago offered me the opportunity to do the illustrated set pieces for his HALO fan-film, Operation Chastity). Moreso because I think they might appreciate certain aspects of this image in their own capacities, like the pew pew lazars. Ok really its just about the lazars and the airburst munitions. And my special thanks and apologies to my truly professional and patient producer, Karen Miksza, for enduring and evaluating a chickenscratch-sketch of mine that resembled more of a Rorschach exercise than anything. You rock! As for the artwork: Reading the brief, and visualising the narrative and technical approach, made me want to crawl under a rock somewhere and just go into a coma. But it dawned on me it was really about huge battlesuits and powered armour on bikes in a desert--the very stuff my favourite SF childhood memories were made of. So I put on some Bubblegum Crisis tracks to remind me of what I felt was special about the genre and what I would like to see happen again, and got back to work. "Say Yes!" by Maiko Hashimoto in particular, really helped bring back those memories. Bearing in mind this is meant to be a triple-fold/paneled illustration; I was to illustrate a White Scars Stormseer fighting a Crisis Battlesuit with a tulwar on the front cover(rightmost third of image), looming Riptide in center third, and miscellaneous combatants filling up the remainder. The White Scars were to seem joyous in the midst of their hunt, armed with lances or tulwars in addition to the bolters on their bikes. All this was to take place on a dusty plain. I immediately thought that a scene showing a breached frontline would work best, to help put across just how fast moving and aggressive the White Scars are known to be, and for all the long distance planning of the Tau once up close and personal with Space Marines on bikes, it can quickly descend into unmanageable chaos. Troops having to divert their attention from the front to acquire stray bikers without hitting their friends, and crisis suits engaging their thrusters to quickly manoeuver along the ranks and train their guns on the bikes. Crisis suits... in a crisis of their own... aha..haha..h- As a Chinese guy, I felt it got really hilarious at one point painting Fu Manchu 'roid mongols in sun-bleached white armour going to town on the Tau. So I just rode that wave as best I could Having my own front row seat and getting into the mentality of what it means to create a 40K flavoured illustration is making me more and more of a fan of what I think the franchise represents on different levels. When I say I find 40K really insane, I mean it in a sincerely optimistic way, and I think I am finally getting better at understanding where that balance point between grimdark outlook, cautionary tale/social commentary, and outlandish spectacle sits. This reflection of what 40K meant to me, had me throwing out the idea that maybe in order for the Stormseer to even be in close combat with a Battlesuit twice his height, required he be presented in a way that could rival the nuttiness of the idea to begin with. So imagining a narrative, I assume these guys could have force-lances that they could also throw, using that as a medium range large-caliber stopping weapon (illustrated at bottom right) and then move into closer combat with their shorter range tulwars. (This of course sets up the visual excuse for the flapping blood-soaked hair plume on the end of the lance up front.) The stormseer would realise that his bolters might be ineffectual at getting him within close enough range so he would opt to just pop a wheelie off the frontline Tau and use the bolter riddled chassis of the crisis suit as a landing ramp and shield to buy him precious seconds to plan his next move. They're Space Marines. Seemed legit. "SAY YES!" Other favourite details: -Please excuse the slightly overdone prismatic effect on the Riptide's shield. I still think it looks nice and it makes some sense. Just riffing off similar idea in the previous Tau codex supplement. I also wanted to illustrate how the hexa-projection areas might be linked to individual projection nodes, and we would see how individual 'tiles' pulse under stress as opposed to having a continuous 'texture pattern'. -I keep reading in the fluff how much advanced targetting tech the Tau pack, technically a Fire warrior would have onboard sensors and targetting aids, that eventually gets meshed with higher level networked data from sensor drones, add on to that markerlight data and more... basically it just sounds like a Tau shooter could be drunk, falling over, and still hit a fly in between its eyes having accounted for atmospheric disruption from 600 meters away. So that I felt gave me the right to imply that they can shoot incoming rounds out of the sky. Which we can see to great effect in the background and right behind the Stormseer. There of course is the consideration for fans who think its unreasonable, so they also look like they could be randomly hit because the relatively slow moving missiles are travelling through a firestorm of plasma. But I just wanted to say what the original intent was Also to the left is a inverted Phalanx-CIWS looking burst cannon drone that seems to be in charge of clearing the skies for ground troops (when I saw that design I almost stood up and clapped at the screen). And for those of you who absolutely do not buy any of that, there's this: warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/Ai… -Poor Tau loses his head in the background -The bikes were initially block-modelled in Sketchup to help me give a sense of their geometry and what I could do with them. This took over a week to do, the longest I've spent on any of the illustrations to date and burnt a weekend or so (gladly so) getting it done. I hope it makes the Tau and White Scars fans amongst you happy and rooting for your favourites and for mech heads in general

#warhammer 40k #40k #space marines #tau #battlesuit #white scars #damocles #damocles crusade

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justalittlebluetiefling · 7 years

Text

Chapter 53: Sometimes I Can’t See Myself

Rating: T Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke Chapter: 53/68 Word Count: 2248 Words

Chapter Summary: The one where Clarke, Octavia, and Raven get to be roommates.

Also on AO3; Start from the beginning on AO3

True to her word, Raven had all of her things packed up and moved into Clarke and O’s living room the day after her graduation. They were still searching for the perfect place to live, but Clarke had already started to pack up non-essentials. One day, while Clarke was working a shift at the clinic, Raven and O claimed that they found said perfect place.

Bellamy was in the middle of grading essays when he got Clarke’s text.

Princess 11:32am Four bedroom house 2.5 bathrooms Apparently the kitchen is pretty decent, too. Open floorplan looking into the living room And there’s enough room for a dining table So if we get it, we’ll definitely have to take over hosting movie nights and stuff.

Bellamy 11:35am That definitely sounds too good to be true. Did they at least get the rent info?

Princess 11:37am Yeah, it’s a little pricey, but it’s not bad. O says she’ll take the smallest room. I’ll take the biggest one with the bathroom attached. We’ll split rent by square feet.

Bellamy 11:40am When do you get to check it out?

Princess 11:41am I’m going to head over after work. You want to come? You can hang out with me and judge everything. Two of your favorite past-times.

Bellamy 11:43am You know me so well. I’ll meet you there. I can’t believe you’re moving for the second time in a year. That’s really going to suck for you guys.

Princess 11:45am Yeah it will. If only we had a strong, loving group of friends who care deeply for us. It would really help expedite things.

Bellamy 11:47am That would help a lot. Too bad you’re all so unlikable.

Princess 11:49am 😊 My break is over. 4:30 sound good? I’ll text you the address?

Bellamy 11:52am Sounds great. See you then.

It was hard for Bellamy to not judge the rental process. Renting a house was too different from renting an apartment. The landlord would have keys to their house and what if the entire thing was a trap? Octavia couldn’t believe that he didn’t think that they could defend themselves against a middle-aged woman (“Appearances can be deceiving, O!”).

Once he found out that they lived across the country and only came into town a couple times a year, his concern turned toward any issues they might have. With a landlord across the country, they wouldn’t receive proper attention. Raven was a little offended that he didn’t trust her to fix any problem that popped up with the house.

In the end, the three of them (and a secret background check he may have paid for himself) applied to rent the place. There were multiple applicants. It turned out that the landlord had a soft spot for helping out college kids and her properties were really hard to get into, but the girls won out in the end.

It meant he got to try to help Clarke make sure everything was packed to her specifications. She had different colors of stickers for everyone and a separate set of shapes for public spaces. Raven set up the moving truck rental while Octavia recruited Lincoln and his truck again. Soon, they had a move-in date and a moving party set up with the promise to provide pizza and beer to anyone who helped.

Bellamy decided he had to let Clarke be smug about the whole situation. If she didn’t get it out of her system, she might never let his initial hesitation down.

Raven 9:27pm So Octavia and I have an idea.

Bellamy 9:38pm Okay?

Raven 9:39pm We want to make the 4th bedroom an art studio for Clarke. You guys can suffer on the couch. Think you can help? It’s a surprise. In case you were wondering… The definition of surprise is “an unexpected or astonishing event, fact, or thing” I have doubts about bringing you into this. Prove me wrong.

Bellamy 9:41pm I deserve a little more credit than that. I don’t tell Clarke everything. And this is not what I was expecting. Why would I spoil it?

Raven 9:44pm You know you’d spoil it if I didn’t double down on the surprise aspect. What were you expecting?

Bellamy 9:46pm Ignoring that. Honestly, I was expecting this to be about that drinking game O’s trying to set up for moving day.

Raven 9:47pm I’m intrigued. Explain this.

Bellamy 9:50pm We’re not getting drunk until the last box is unloaded. I’m seriously putting my foot down. Clarke already knows and has vetoed the entire thing.

Raven 9:52pm Why do you ruin everything I love?

Bellamy 9:53pm Seriously? Can we go back to the art studio thing? What can I do to help?

“This is really dangerous,” Clarke muttered as she stumbled on a step.

It had been an easy decision to humor him, but she regretted letting Bellamy lead her through the partially unpacked house with her eyes covered.

“Maybe you should stop walking around your house with your eyes closed.”

She tried to throw an elbow back in protest, but he dodged it with a quiet laugh.

“Trust me. You’re going to love it, I promise.”

Clarke scoffed, but she knew he was right. She did trust him. “I don’t see how I’m supposed to love it with my eyes closed.”

Bellamy laughed again. “We’re almost there. Okay, open the door.”

There may have been some mild panic that needed suppressing, because even though she trusted him, she had been burned by this group and their pranks before. The pranks were mostly Jasper, but Bellamy could be sneaky if he was in the right mood.

“Question.” He stopped them and whispered in her ear.

It only sent chills down her spine, because he was so close. They would have happened if it were anyone. Her voice still wasn’t as steady as she’d hoped. “Yeah?”

“Do you really think I’d play a joke on you when you have a whole box of knives in the kitchen?”

Clarke laughed. “I guess when you put it that way….”

She could almost feel him grin. Energy buzzed off him in a way she was mostly accustomed to with Octavia. “You ready?”

“God damn it, Bellamy, if you don’t move your fucking hands, I’ll—”

He lifted his hands away before she could finish. She tried and failed to find words multiple times. When nothing would come, she reached back for him and he grabbed her hand.

Beautiful wouldn’t be the right word to anyone except for Clarke (she thought Lincoln might understand, but still). Plastic sheeting covered the floors and went halfway up the walls. A desk was set up in one corner, an easel in another, and there were a few boxes in the middle of the floor that she distinctly remembered boxing up the previous year at her mom’s. Raven and O stood in the middle of the room holding a paper sign that said “Clarke’s Studio” and huge smiles on her face.

Once she took it all in and regained a bit of herself, she turned and pulled Bellamy into a hug, burying her face in his chest. He laughed quietly and smoothed her hair.

“I see how it is,” Raven said. “We come up with the idea and he gets all the credit.” She had tried and failed to keep the affection out of her voice.

Clarke looked up at Bellamy who shook his head with an eyeroll and a smile. She wiped her eyes and turned to her roommates (her roommates, which was going to be awesome). “Is this why you wouldn’t let me look for a guest bed?”

She crossed the room to hug both of them. Octavia was excited to share the sign she made for the door. ‘The Artist is In/Out’ was printed on a chalkboard so Clarke could let people know she was working on a project. They chatted excitedly, but mostly to each other. Clarke was too busy absorbing how lucky she was.

“I told Bell he wasn’t supposed to turn this into a murder room! Apparently, he and my boyfriend have other plans, though.”

Octavia’s shout pulled her back to reality and she laughed with Raven. “This isn’t a murder room, O. I’m really messy. The plastic was a good idea.”

“You’ve lived with her for three years. You know what a disaster she is around this stuff.”

“If you don’t want your deposit back, we can take it down,” Lincoln offered from the door.

Octavia pouted, mumbling under her breath about helping Clarke bury a body if she had to.

Clarke grinned and jogged over to give him a quick hug. Bellamy was nowhere to be seen. “Thanks for your help with this.”

He smiled back. “Maybe the rest of the house won’t smell like paint, now.”

“If only.” She laughed. “Where did Bellamy go?”

“Oh, Gina had to go. She wanted me to say goodbye for her.” Lincoln frowned and glanced toward the front door. “He walked her out.”

“I’m sure they’re just making out or something,” Raven said, her ponytail swinging as she bounded out of the room and toward the kitchen.

Octavia rolled her eyes and yelled, chasing after her. “We’re going to have to have a discussion about this kind of talk if you’re going to live here!”

Lincoln smiled fondly. “I’ll go make sure everyone finished unpacking before they opened the alcohol.”

“I think it’s too late for that.” But she waved him off and started to unpack her art supplies, waiting for Bellamy to come back.

It didn’t take long for her to get impatient, but she wasn’t about to go out and interrupt things in case Raven was right. Bellamy deserved to be happy. She knew she and Gina were friends, but there were definitely lines and she didn’t want a repeat of what happened with Lexa.

Still, she could hear the others as they started to gather in the kitchen. Everyone had been pretty responsible in spite of the attempt to instigate a drinking game in the morning. Lincoln was obviously not going to be successful in holding the activity off any longer and she didn’t think they needed to.

When she got her second box unpacked, she noticed the stack of blank pre-stretched canvases against the wall. There was a sticky note on the back of one of them.

Clarke,

These are for you on the condition you paint me one thing for my apartment. Our design sense is atrocious, or so Harper claims. You should paint it for my room, just to spite her.

Always, Bellamy

She folded the note and put it in her pocket before sticking the canvases in the closet. She half expected to find Bellamy leaning against the doorframe with a smirk, but he still wasn’t back. It had been twenty minutes. That meant it was acceptable to at least peek out the front door.

At first, she couldn’t see anything in the dark, but as her eyes adjusted, she started to make out Bellamy’s outline on the top step. Gina’s car was gone and he was sitting there alone, his face in his hands. Clarke closed the door behind her quietly, but hesitated. The fact that he was alone made her nervous and she didn’t know how to approach the situation.

“I know you’re there, Clarke.” His voice, muffled by his hands, was rough. “Stop hovering.”

Clarke huffed, but complied. She sat down a couple feet away from him, tempted to ask the question straight out. But instead, she said, “You’ve been out here a while.”

There was a beat of silence. “Gina broke up with me.”

“Oh.” Clarke was quiet and waited for him to say more. He didn’t. “I can leave you alone, if you want.”

“Please don’t.”

“Okay.” She scooted a little closer and threw an arm around him. He folded over and set his forehead on her knees. Clarke rubbed one hand on his back rested the other against his hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s not much to talk about.”

“How could there not be much to talk about?”

Clarke took her hands back as Bellamy sat up to look at her. “All she said was that we would be better off as friends and then she left.”

“That’s….” It didn’t make much sense to Clarke. She thought that Gina and Bellamy got along well. They made sense. Gina breaking up with Bellamy didn’t. There had to be more behind it.

She looked at Bellamy, who was watching her expectantly and she realized she had trailed off without saying anything.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t even see it coming.”

“Neither did I.”

“Do you need to cry?”

Bellamy shook his head.

“Do you think you’ll be able to be friends?”

Bellamy shrugged. “It’s a little early to know for sure.”

“Can I do anything?”

“You’re already doing it.”

Clarke sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder as he threw his arm around her. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

“I mean, if you find out what she’s not telling me, that would be above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Noted.”

They sat together for a long time before they got up and joined the others. Bellamy didn’t say anything to them and Clarke wasn’t about to push him. He deserved to hide from it for a few days, at least.

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #modern au #sometimes i can't see myself #my work #erin writes #bellarke au

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